Novocaine
by Yester Darling
Summary: Music is Arthur's one way of expressing himself. It allows him to show the emotions he never talks about. And then, he meets Francis. Handsome, kind (and hella hot) Francis. Full summary inside. Inspired by Novocaine by FOB as well as other songs. T for swearing, abuse, and implied(?) sexual content. Rating may change.
1. While My Guitar Gently Weeps

A/N: hey, lovelies! Welcome to the re-write of Novocaine! I'm super excited, as I like the style I used for this first chapter better. In this updated version, chapters will typically be longer. This one, however, is short; please forgive me. I'll also put together a youtube playlist for this, if I am able. (Edit: my youtube channel is Yesteryear's Killer Liner. The playlist is called Novocaine Companion playlist.)

Unfortunately, I only have a re-write of chapter 1 so far. You see, I'm prone to a little issue that causes pain in my wrist (not carpel tunnel, before anyone worries), so I have to be super careful when it flares up. I can still type without causing any further pain to my wrist, but it's slow. Luckily, I wrote this chapter ahead of time.

Enough about me. On with the story.

Cheers!

-YY

* * *

Summary: Music is Arthur's one way of expressing himself. It allows him to show the emotions he never talks about. And then, he meets Francis. Handsome, kind (and hella hot) Francis. And his heart feels like it's going to burst. But how can someone devoid of love and lacking care ever fall in love? Though thinks that he can't feel anything after all these years, what Arthur doesn't realize the only thing numbing him is himself.

Playlist:

1- While My Guitar Gently Weeps (The Beatles)

* * *

Some lives want nothing. They are content; complete. Some lives were a mess. They just felt wrong; either strange, the way a too small tee shirt feels, or the way the pain of scraping one's knees on the rough cement feels.

Arthur's life was completely wrong in every way.

His family was all wrong, though he had not realized it until later. He felt stupid for not noticing earlier.

His father had always favored booze. It had a negative effect on him, dragging him into the abusive stupor that came with having far more than just a couple of pints. He never had dared to touch the children before; only his wife. For five years, the young boy was blissfully unaware. For six years, he watched in horror as she kept it together for her children. When he turned twelve, the divorce papers were filed.

Many would have blamed the ale. Arthur didn't blame the alcohol itself. He blamed the sheer stupidity of the user, not noticing his mind slowly fading away into intoxication. Deciding to be drunk. His father's choice was the reason that Arthur's dear mother had left. The reason he saw her only every other week.

Some would have realized their wrongdoings and gone to correct them. Arthur's father did not. His drunken anger over his former wife had slowly shifted to his children.

The Kirkland Family consisted of five children, and as each one grew up and moved out, more of the brunt of the anger fell on the rest. Allistor, the oldest, had been awarded a scholarship to play rugby at a school. Owen was living with his girlfriend, Wes, and had enough of a mind to take one of the twins, Niamh, with him.

That left Liam and the one whom the other siblings considered the baby. Arthur.

Years passed, each year marring Arthur, nothing more than his spirit. No one had the nerve to tell their mother.

He had one person he ever talked to about it; more of a brother than anyone in his nuclear family. Alfred never told anyone. He did all that Arthur needed him to: he listened.

In the break before his last year of secondary school, when he was 16, Alfred introduced him to that which changed his life.

Fall Out Boy. ACDC. Green Day. All American, but all in tune with how he felt. The music brought new meaning and thrill to him.

And he loved every bit of it.

No action goes with out reaction. Soon enough, nearly every cent that Arthur was given went towards his obsession. CDs stacked upon his desk, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, and Queen making room for albums by The Sex Pistols, the Clash, and The Who. Nearly every outfit that was not his school uniform became black, leather, stressed, or plaid. Unruly blonde hair was soon highlighted with green, and piercings further marred his skin, yet in a way that the Brit found to be acceptable.

In the corner of his bedroom, his most prized possession lay. He had bought it wit the help of his mother; a bright red Fender Squire. Only through that did he really show himself; raw emotion let out only under the disguise of music.

He felt like he had a calling, and he'd go to the ends of the earth to follow it.

Leaning against his headboard, he gently strummed out the song, softly singing along to it. The amp was unplugged; he didn't need to start a row with his father today.

 _"I look at you all, see the love there that's sleeping_

 _While my guitar gently weeps."_

"Pretty song."

He froze, looking up to see Alfred prying his bedroom window open.

"You could have bloody knocked, you know," he huffed, shoving his pick in his pocket as the American student stepped off the ladder and into the room.

"And face the wrath of his drunken-ness?" He laughed. "Ha! No, thanks! But really, what was that song? The Beatles?"

Arthur figured he was here for a reason. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Woah, woah," the American threw up his hands. "Who said anything about that?"

"Just get on with it."

"Fine, fine, oh-great-captain-eyebrows..."

Balling his fists, Arthur growled. "Alfred Jones, get to the bloody point!"

"Ouch. Someone's in a bad mood... I guess I won't tell him about the band members I found."

Looking up at him, Arthur's green eyes widened. "Band members...?"

"Hah, now you're paying attention."


	2. Come Together

A/N: Hello there, lovelies! Welcome to the rewrite of Novocaine Chapter 2! Thank you very much for the nice reviews of Chapter One.

You'll have to excuse me if the audition process seems off. I don't play bass guitar or drums, so much of my knowledge comes from when I arrange music. It might not be very accurate.

Either way, I hope that you enjoy.

Cheers!

-YY

* * *

Playlist:

1- While My Guitar Gently Weeps (The Beatles)

2- Come Together (The Beatles)

* * *

Anyone who had never met them before would agree. They were a sorry bunch.

Since both Arthur and Alfred played guitar, not to mention that Arthur sang, they only really needed two more members: a drummer and a bassist. Any good band had a good drummer, and any good song had a steady bass line. They were crucial in Arthur's eyes. Thankfully, Alfred had met a bassist and a drunmer.

His eyes darted around the basement in which he was currently sitting. Convoluted foam was stapled to the ceiling and walls, and any free wall space was painted black. Kicked into a pile was a mass of dirty clothes which had previously been strewn across the floor. In another area was a messily made bed. It seemed that the entirety of the small basement had been turned into the living space of the German boy, the boy currently returning with refreshments.

"Thanks for letting us do this at your place, man," Alfred said, grabbing the package of Leibniz from the tray.

"Ja, no problem," Gilbert replied with a grin. "Easier than having to drag my drum set somewhere else."

Gilbert looked as though he already belonged to a rock band. His pale white hair and skin contrasted his eyes, tinted red due to his albinism. The black eyeliner he wore further accentuated this. His face was angular, and never seemed to be without a cocky, arrogant smirk. A plain black tee shirt and dark wash jeans were his attire. He certainly looked and acted the part.

Everything that Gil was, however, Antonio was not. Toni seemed more warm and inviting. His warm-brown hair, unlike Gilbert's and Arthur's, had a softer look, and he seemed to have a grin plastered on his face and a smile in his green eyes. Though he also wore jeans and a band tee shirt, the clothing did little to balance how happy-go-lucky he looked. He didn't look like he belonged in a band at all.

The Brit was drawn from his thoughts as Alfred elbowed him in the ribs. He hissed, the jolt bringing him back to reality.

"Right," he muttered, looking back to the potential new members. "Which one of you is going first?"

"What?" Gilbert asked. Arthur face-palmed.

"You have to audition, you sodding git."

"Woah woah woah. Audition? What d'ya mean?" The smirk on his face turned to a look of confusion.

"You heard me correctly," the Brit sneered. "If I'm starting a band, I'm not letting just anyone join. I'm not looking for stardom by any means, but God help me if I'm going to let a random bloke with no sense of timing, rhythm, or sharps and flats," he added, glancing at Antonio, "join my band. If you want in, prove your worth."

"He makes a point, amigo," Antonio pointed out, putting a hand on Gilbert's shoulder. "No one wants to listen to a band that is out of tune, right?"

"Mein Gott..." Gil muttered, looking to Alfred. "You weren't lying when you said he was tough."

"Nah, this is nothing," Alfred replied. "He'll lighten up once he gets to know ya."

"He'd better. Come on, give me a melody. Let's see if I can match it." He strode over to his drum set, picking up the sticks with one hand and adjusting the kit with the other. In the mean time, Alfred unpacked his guitar, plugging it into the small portable amp Antonio had brought.

Hearing the first chord, Arthur rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what Alfred was going to play. When he heard him yell "Kick it!", his suspicions were confirmed even more. He should have known. The American loved the Beastie Boys.

Ignoring the choice of song, however, the Brit had to be impressed with Gilbert's skill. Granted, he had probably heard the song before and had probably picked up the beat, it was still good that he could pick up the drum line without being told which song he was playing ahead of time. His timing was good, too. He hid his satisfaction, though, not wanting to build up the German's ego.

"Not bad," he said curtly when they finished, playing the performance down. "I guess you're in."

"I guess so," Gilbert grinned. "I didn't expect anything less from myself." He got up and leaned against the wall, looking rather smug.

"Right... You're up then, Toni."

"Alright," Antonio replied, hopping up and getting his bass, nearly opening the case upside-down in excitement. Arthur rolled his eyes. Alfred had said both of them were good, but Toni seemed like a bit if an idiot at the moment.

Eventually, he had his bass plugged in, all in tune and the whole nine yards. "What do you want me to play?"

"Play anything with a good bass line," Arthur said, sighing. He thought that much was obvious. "Get started, and then we'll see how well you can keep up with changing tempos.

Nodding, Toni began tapping his foot in a rhythmic way after deciding upon a song. Arthur had to admit; he had a good taste in music. Under Pressure hd one of the most famous bass lines of all time.

"Right. Don't stop playing; just keep up with the timing I use," he finally said, standing up. Taking a deep breath, he started.

 _"Pressure. Pushing down on me_

 _Pressing down on you._

 _No man ask for."_

Every so many measures, he changed tempo, forcing Antonio to change his speed. For someone who seemed like the opposite of a band member, he was actually rather good. Satisfied, Arthur had him stop.

"Sounds good," he said bluntly, and a grin crossed Antonio's face.

"Gracias!" The Spaniard said happily. "I'm glad that you think I'm good!"

"I guess that means we have a band now," Alfred said, smiling.

"I guess that we do," Arthur agreed, not able to keep a slight smile from crossing his face. At long last, it seemed like things were coming together and he'd be able to express his passion. "I guess that means we need a name."

"Was zum holle?" Gilbert cursed. "Alfred said you had everything figured out! You don't have any band names? So unawesome!"

"I never told him that," Arthur snapped back. "I thought the entire bloody point was that the band chose the name together!"

"Fine, then. How about Awesome?"

"That's mainstream and sounds like a pop band," the brit countered quickly. "Any other ideas?"

Over the rest of the snacks, they bantered back and forth until they chose a name: Anticlockwise. Not only did it sound neat, but it fit the style of music they'd be playing; the name literally meant to go against the norm. They even had time to plan practices; every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday at Gilbert's house. They put Antonio in charge of the logo and Alfred in charge of finding gigs. Arthur would do the arrangements.

For the first time in what felt like ages, he felt at ease. Music was his life and passion, and now he could share it with the world. Or, at least, three other people. Finally, he could let out all his pain, anger, and sorrow in a way that wouldn't raise suspicion.

Through song. No one ever questioned the lyrics of a song. And if they did, they often brushed aside the thought, thinking it's just a song.

To him, it was so much more, but the world wouldn't ever have to know.

He felt he was complete with the band.

Unfortunately, when people enjoy themselves, time seems to go by faster for them. Sooner that Arthur would have originally hoped, he and Alfred were headed out the door with Toni until Thursday.

"Oh," the Spaniard said as a blue SUV pulled up in Gilbert's driveway. "That's my ride. I'll introduce you to him."

Him? Arthur assumed it was Antonio's father. Instead, a boy a bit older than him exited the driver's side.

Earlier, Arthur had thought that music was his only passion. His world. As soon as the boy stepped out of the car, he found himself proven wrong.

He was handsome; a real Adonis. He had slightly long blond hair that fell around his head in soft curls, framing his defined facial features. Aside from a slight stubble on his chin, he was clean shaven.

He already looked perfect, from his face to the clothes he wore, but then Arthur's eyes met his. They were a lovely shade of violet blue, like hyacinths.

"Francis, these are the ones starting the band," Toni said, "Arthur and Alfred." They both waved in greeting.

"Salut," Francis said, smiling slightly at Arthur.

He was speechless as he watched Antonio put his things into the car's trunk, unable to identify just what it was that he was feeling. All he knew as he watched them drive down the street was that he had seen something in him. Not the false kindness many usually showed upon seeing him, appalled by his pierced face and black eyeliner, but a genuine kindness. And his eyes. He could have sworn he saw something in those crystalline eyes.

And like a glass bottle, Arthur's world had shattered.


End file.
